


Five Times Steve Fucks Up Billy's Ice Cream Order (And One Time He Doesn't)

by CrypticNitwit



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, matchmaker robin is the best, probably fluff, takes place ambiguously between s2 and s3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 12:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20115271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticNitwit/pseuds/CrypticNitwit
Summary: Billy keeps coming back to Scoops, and unfortunately, Steve's always there. Steve doesn't know what Billy fucking wants.On the other hand, Robin seems to know exactly what's going on.





	Five Times Steve Fucks Up Billy's Ice Cream Order (And One Time He Doesn't)

5  
Steve slaps the table, the broken top tilting towards him as he does. "I'm telling you, Robin, he was trying to fuck his mom, okay, that's the whole reason he was talking to her!"

Robin puts her head in her hands. "Oh my god. Are we even talking about the same movie?" 

The table groans as Steve leans forward, brow furrowed in frustration. "Yes! Listen. It doesn't matter _why_ he went back to the past-"

The service bell at the front of the store interrupts him, ringing three times before going silent. Robin looks towards the door with dread.

"It's your turn to get it, Robin." Steve crosses his arms and leans back.

She stands and leans over the table, jabbing a finger into his chest. "This conversation isn't over, dingus." After a moment to calm herself, she plasters a chipper smile onto her face and ducks through the door. Steve idly listens as she pitches her usual spiel, muffled through the thin wall between the front and the back room. "Hi, welcome to Scoops Ahoy, what can I get for you guys today?"

Someone's voice -- a man's, low -- replies indistinctly, followed by silence. With a bang, the door flies open again.

"Uh-uh. I'm not dealing with this guy, Steve," Robin says, collapsing into her chair. "You do it."

Steve sputters. "But- It's your turn!"

"Then I'll owe you one." As Robin props her Converse up on the table and raises her eyebrows, Steve realizes he's already lost.

His folding chair scrapes along the floor as he stands up. With a smile, he slams the door open. "Ahoy, folks! How can I help- you."

Waiting at the counter are Max and Billy, one looking distinctly more irritated than the other. Steve mentally pinches the bridge of his nose. Billy is maybe the last person he wants to see at his workplace, just a tiny notch above a literal demodog. 

Fuck Robin. 

Well, Steve reasons, maybe he can just ignore Billy and it'll be fine. Billy hasn't attacked him yet, after all. Hasn't even looked at him. Steve takes his place behind the counter and leans on the glass guard, raising an eyebrow at Max instead. "Hey, kid, what's up? Not here to see a movie, are you? Free admission's only for kids under sixteen."

Max offers him a small smile. "Hey, Steve. Billy owes me an ice cream," she says, but she seems more subdued than usual.

"Well, you came to the right place!" He slaps a hand on the counter and unholsters his scooper, making a show of spinning it in his hand it before sweeping it dramatically over the ice cream selection. "What can I get for you? I recommend the cookies and cream," he says, sharing a conspiratory smile. "Must've changed the recipe or something, it's great."

Behind Max, Billy shifts, and Steve risks a glance. He looks, frankly, pissed. His hair is a mess, and his t-shirt is untucked. Just above his collarbone lies a fresh bruise, still mostly red, which would probably explain his mood. Steve focuses back on Max.

"Cookies and cream sounds good." Max smiles a little bigger this time. Steve allows himself to take a little pride in that.

With a flourish, Steve hands it over. He's moments away from ringing her up, but he stops. "Um." He meets Billy's eyes. "Do you want anything?"

Billy continues to look pissed.

"I mean, I don't know, you don't seem like the ice cream type." Steve frantically begins pushing buttons on the cash register, trying to drown out his own voice with the clicking. "Just thought I'd ask. Company policy-"

"Jesus, do you ever shut up, Harrington?" 

Steve shuts up. Above the register, Billy's eyes are a piercing blue and his shoulders are hunched. He's distinctly not looking at Steve, and hey, he's definitely not looking for a fight, either. He's relieved at that, at least. 

"Just get me whatever you think is good. I don't have time for this." Billy shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and stares at the ice cream tubs.

"Okay," Steve mumbles. Fuck again. He's never thought about it before, but suddenly Billy's taste in ice cream seems unfathomable.

In the end, well, everyone likes USS Butterscotch. He hands it to Billy and immediately resumes not looking at him. "Okay, guys, that's three twenty-five. Have a good day!"

The cash drawer has barely closed when Steve crashes through the staff door. "Robin, what the hell!"

With a frown, Robin looks up from the back of the receipt she was doodling on. "_What_ the hell?" 

"Did you know that's the guy that beat my face in?" Steve hisses. 

She leans forward, eyes wide. "Billy Hargrove beat your face in?"

"Yeah, last year! Not that you fucking noticed, thanks!"

In a flash, Robin is at the service window, peering out into the mall through the gap. "Shut up, I didn't know it was him."

Steve stands over her, watching. Through the crack, only a sliver of Max is visible, her red hair stark against her yellow hoodie, but then he shifts, and there's Billy, one hand still jammed in his pocket. As Steve watches, Billy takes a bite of the ice cream, -- a bite! -- recoils, and tosses it into the nearest trash can.

Robin whistles. "That guy might be the first person ever to not like USS Butterscotch," she says, disentangling herself from the long limbs trapping her against the counter.

"What a waste of ice cream," Steve grumbles. Pretends it doesn't hurt his pride a little.

4  
Steve has just sat down when Robin pulls the service window open. She sticks her face in, irritation clear in her eyes. "Hey dingus? Your arch rival is here."

Behind her, Billy's leaning on the counter, fiddling with a cigarette. Steve groans.

"I'm on break!" He raises his arms, gesturing around the break room. "I got a fifteen minute nap with my name on it, Rob, c'mon."

Robin heaves a sigh. "Look, I really don't feel like flirting with the walking mullet." She slides over the counter and closes the window behind her. Leaning against the counter, she fixes him with a look. "My break now."

Steve doesn't have to wait for her to put her feet up on the table to know that she's stuck him with Billy Hargrove once again.

He leaves his hat on his chair as he storms out. "Goddamn arch rival bullshit," Steve mumbles, entering the front of the shop. Out of the corner of his eye, he notes that Robin's pushed the window open a little bit again. He positions himself directly in front of it. He hopes he blocked her view. Take that, Robin.

When Steve takes his place behind the counter, Billy perks up, tucking the unlit cigarette behind his ear. Steve doesn't bother putting on a show for him. "What do you want?"

Billy looks him over, all dangerous grin and half-lidded gaze. He looks more put together than last time. No jacket, but he's wearing a light blue shirt unbuttoned to his navel. Through jittering nerves, Steve wonders if he could deny Billy service based on the old "no shirt no shoes" doctrine. He doesn't get a chance to ask before Billy replies. 

"Service with a smile would be nice, princess." 

God, Steve thinks, what a douche.

Steve folds his arms over his chest, not moving from his spot. The metal edge of the counter is digging into his back where his uniform's ridden up, but he's not going to tell Billy that. "Yeah, eat shit, Hargrove."

Billy scoffs. "Ice cream, actually." 

Steve frowns. 

Billy reaches up and taps his own lip. Unwittingly, Steve's gaze flickers downward. Billy's bottom lip is split, a cherry red scratch stretching just past the bottom edge. "Got in a fight this morning. Figured something cold would ease the swelling, and hey," he leans forward, shirt somehow falling even further open, "I know where to get it from."

Steve stolidly ignores Billy's provocations. "Great. Are you going to tell me what you actually want this time, or are you going to make me suffer?"

At least Billy has the sense to look affronted. "Suffer? Wouldn't dream of it, pretty boy." He draws a breath. "The thing is, though..." Billy's tongue flicks over his bottom lip as he glances at the menu. "I just don't know what to get."

Steve doesn't know what he expected. 

Despite his best intentions, Steve feels a little bad for the guy. Split lips can hurt like hell. He knows from experience.

Surveying the options, he weighs each flavor in his mind against the man standing in front of him. He finds himself coming up blank. He risks a glance up at Billy. His eyes haven't left him for even a moment. Some unreadable expression plays across his features as he watches Steve.

...Maybe strawberry, Steve thinks. Max likes it plenty, so maybe Billy will, too. Maybe, he thinks, they have some sort of weird super secret step-sibling taste bud bond.

Yeah, probably not. It's the best bet he's got, though.

He steps forward and jams a scoop of strawberry into a cone, handing it unceremoniously to Billy. Before he gets a dime out of him, he's already licking the ice cream, the pink dripping from the side of his mouth and into the cut. Steve winces.

Distaste spreads over Billy's features. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"What, not a fan?"

Billy shoots Steve a mock-pitying look. "Afraid not, Harrington. Good try though." 

"Yeah, well, I gave you your damn ice cream, so pay up and get out." 

"Whatever you say, princess." He fishes a dollar fifty out of his pocket and holds his hand out. 

When Steve goes to take it, Billy pulls his hand back. His eyes are wide, now, like he's surprised. "Actually, you know what?"

A tight feeling settles in Steve's chest. His heart picks up a little.

"I think I might have to come back until I find a flavor I like." He puts the money on the counter and pushes himself into Steve's face, close enough to feel his strawberry-scented breath on his cheeks. Steve's eyes widen. "I'll be seeing you later, pretty boy."

He holds his nearly untouched ice cream out. Steve dumbly takes it, then watches Billy saunter away, quickly getting lost in the crowd outside of the shop. 

The window behind him clatters in its tracks as Robin pushes it open. "One thing I can tell you for sure, Steve? I won't be serving that guy any time soon."

Steve can barely hear her over the pounding of his heart in his ears. 

3  
The next time Billy walks in, he catches Steve wiping down the back counter. His first instinct is to duck into the back and get Robin, but Robin's out in the hall picking up the newest bins of ice cream -- an owed favor, they're always fucking sticky -- and Billy's already seen him. Even as they make eye contact, Billy grins and rings the bell.

Steve leans against the back counter, slinging the striped rag over his shoulder. "Ahoy," he deadpans. "What can I get for you."

"Still grumpy, huh pretty boy?" 

Steve hums, noncommittal. "I'm at work. I don't know if you noticed, but slinging ice cream is hardly thrilling." He adjusts his stupid little sailor shirt. He feels his face flush as Billy rakes his gaze downwards.

"Hey, at least you've got the girl back there to keep you company." His grin turns sharp. 

Something heavy twists in Steve's stomach. "You mean Robin?" He snorts. "She's awful company. Not even nice to me."

"What, she's not your girl?"

"Definitely not my girl."

Behind Steve, the door to the back hallway clangs. "What's that about girls?" Robin calls. The push cart rattles over the linoleum floor.

He doesn't bother to turn around. "You're not my girl."

"Not your girl? Shit, I'm barely even your work friend." He can hear the smile in her voice, though, and he can't resist smiling a little, too. Billy looks at him like he's an idiot.

Robin leans through the window to address them both. She looks him up and down, then settles on flashing him a small smile. "Rest easy, blondie, Steve here is so not my type."

Fuck happened to "I'm not dealing with this guy"?

Billy smiles again, sleazier this time. "And what might your type be?"

"Confidential!" Robin chirps, slamming the window shutters closed. Well, shit. She's abandoned him again.

When he meets Billy's eyes again, he expects a sneer, a retort, a "lost your game, Harrington?". Instead, Billy looks at him with laughter in his eyes. He smiles, his tongue poking out, and from the tilt of his head Steve can tell he's more at ease now. "So, you gonna pick me some ice cream?"

Steve lets his head fall back against the wall.

Black cherry is the flavor of the day, so Steve scoops him some -- it matches Billy's lip, still barely bruised -- and hands it over. Billy sits at a table near the front. Steve pretends not to watch, a little bit horrified, as Billy goes to town on the ice cream in the _weirdest way possible,_ all wide tongue and barely scraping teeth. 

There's only so long he can linger over wiping down the counters, so he ducks into the back with Robin. "Need any help?"

She gestures vaguely at the dolly, now empty. "Took too long with blondie out there, dingus. I finished up the job. I no longer owe you any favors."

"Great." Steve sits down across from her and determines that he feels decidedly not great. He runs a nervous hand through his hair. Then again. Then he taps his foot on the floor for a minute, then he starts rocking his chair, clicking its uneven legs on the floor-

With a sharp sigh, Robin sits up. "Why the hell does Billy have you so riled up, Steve? You yourself said you're over this high school bullshit."

"I'm not riled up."

Robin quirks her lips.

"Okay, so maybe I'm riled up. But," Steve stands, pacing from the back door to the front, "I said I was over that shit and I meant it, but he keeps just," he waves a hand, "showing up! He won't even tell me what ice cream he likes!"

Robin raises an eyebrow.

Steve blushes under her scrutiny. He leans in, lowering his voice. "Why the fuck won't he leave me alone, Robin?"

"You are the stupidest- god. Okay." Robin stands, then peers out the half open window. "You know..." she sits on the counter. The metal clangs beneath her Converse as she kicks her heels back. 

Her breath is a little shallow, he thinks. Before he can ask her if she's okay, she's talking again.

"Steve," and her voice is so quiet, "you know how I like girls?" She raises her eyebrows, face creased in concern.

Steve blinks. "Um, no. But, um, continue?"

There's a moment of silence before Robin laughs. Her face twists into disbelief. "You didn't - you didn't?" She falls to her side on the counter, eyes squeezed shut, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Steve gets the feeling he's been left out of a really big joke.

"You know what, dingus? If you didn't pick up on that, I don't know if there's any hope left for you. Jesus." She wipes a tear from her cheek, dramatically flicking her hand to the side. "The plus side is I don't think you have anything to worry about around Billy."

Steve hates feeling stupid. He leaves her on the counter, still coughing with residual laughter, goes out and pretends to wipe the counters again. When he dares glance out at the tables, Billy is already gone.

2  
Robin finds the words to explain things -- to _properly_ explain -- before their shifts are up. It's all Steve can think about over the weekend. Some feeling twists its way into his ribs and sticks there, catching his breath when he thinks about it too hard. Even bright and early on Monday morning, though, he can't really leave it alone.

"Why the fuck would he like _me,_ though?" He says for the fourth time in ten minutes. "Plenty of bitches in the sea, he says-"

Amused and unfairly cavalier about the whole thing, she replies, "Steve, if it bothers you that much, just ask him." She doesn't even bother to look up from the sink.

"I can't just ask him!"

"Why not?" She glances up. "Four o'clock."

"What? My shift ends at five."

"No, dingus, turn."

He turns, and lingering in the central court of the mall, checking himself out in a goddamn display window, is Billy Hargrove. Steve groans and leans back on the counter, out of sight.

Robin puts her towel down. She stands next to Steve and squints, shamelessly watching him. "Damn, did he actually curl his hair?" She clicks her tongue. "Not half bad."

When Steve tries to say something, it gets caught in his throat and comes out as a squeak instead. "What the fuck."

"Dunno." Robin stands up and returns to the sink, flashing him a smile. In a moment of horror, he recognizes something very sharp and very... _Billy_ about it. Like she's goading him. Pushing him. "Why don't you find out?"

He tells himself he does not want to find out. He tells Robin, even, "I don't want to find out." Very quietly, though, behind his ribs, the question beats. _Why?_ and then, _For me?_

And then the fucking bell rings. 

So he pushes himself off of the counter, schools his face into a calm smile, and goes to the front.

It's not actually Billy that's rung the bell. It's two girls, one of whom he recognizes from the year before him in school. Steve can barely pay attention, definitely making a fool of himself as he half listens to their orders, half watches Billy fucking Hargrove stalk into the store, lingering behind the girls.

They go on their way, ogle Billy as they go by, and then Billy's ringing the bell, saying "Harrington? Earth to Harrington." 

Robin's right, he did curl his hair. It looks... nice.

He grits his teeth in as close to a smile as he can get at the moment. "Hi."

Billy raises an eyebrow. "Hello. You serve ice cream here or what?"

Alright, Steve knows this shit. "Well, depends what kind you want."

Billy leans in. "Well, we don't want to ruin the game, do we?" His smile isn't as sharp this time, Steve notes. 

Actually, no, he shouldn't be looking at his lips. He steps back and shrugs. "Dunno. You like mint?"

Still smiling, Billy reaches up and flicks Steve's sailor hat. The stupid sailor hat. "That's for me to know and you to find out, Captain."

Steve rolls his eyes and gets him a scoop of mint chocolate chip. Without thinking, he drizzles chocolate sauce over top, then hands it over. 

"Wow, feeling generous today?" Billy laughs. He starts tonguing the damn ice cream. Chocolate sauce smears across his lips. Steve looks down at his hands so quick he thinks he might have whiplash.

He shrugs. "Not any good without the chocolate." He finds a drip of chocolate on his finger and sticks it in his mouth, idly sucking it off. He taps the register one-handed.

When a solid minute has passed and no money is forthcoming, Steve looks up again. Billy's frozen, chocolate still stuck in the corner of his mouth. Almost endearing, something in Steve whispers.

"Are you going to pay for that, or what?"

Billy snaps out of it and slaps two dollars on the counter. "Thanks," he says. "Still not my favorite." He turns to leave.

"Billy?"

He turns back, a question in his eyes.

Steve points to his mouth. "You got some chocolate right there."

Billy scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand and just about runs out of the store.

"Smooth, Steve," Robin says from the back.

"Yeah," he grumbles, "I know.

"You should do something about him."

It's his turn to give her a look. "Do something?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, you know, he's into you, you're into him? Do something."

He leans through the window. "The fuck am I gonna do, Robin? The guy won't even tell me what _ice cream_ he likes. You think he's gonna say yes to, like, a date?" Frenzied panic creeps up into his voice. "What would we even do, sit here and eat more ice cream?"

Robin shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe."

Steve puts his head in his hands. "I hate you. You're useless."

She falls silent for a minute. "Look, just tell him you... like his hair or his outfit or something. He'll eat it up."

He stares at her. "That I like his _hair?_"

She shrugs again. "Why not? It's four words. Easy peasy."

"I'm dead," he tells her. "I'm so dead."

1  
Billy rests his elbow on the glass over the ice cream. The heat of his skin fogs over the cool glass. His voice is warm as he addresses Steve. "I'm sure you can figure it out this time."

Steve nods, but his thoughts are racing along without him. _He'll eat it up,_ Robin had said, like she knew. Like she even likes boys. Fuck, Steve likes boys.

He risks a glance up and meets Billy's eyes. Fuck. Steve likes Billy Hargrove. 

There's a short pause, then "What're you waiting for, princess?" But his voice is still warm, and it sends shivers down Steve's spine.

"Just hoping you'll give me a goddamn clue," Steve manages through gritted teeth. He means it in more ways than one. 

Billy snorts. "Not a chance." 

"Ah, well, thought I'd give it a shot." Fumbling for his scooper, Steve risks another glance up. "You do something different? With your hair? Looks good," he manages, and then he flinches, because his ass is so getting kicked and he can _hear_ the squeak of the marker in the "you suck" column in the back.

After a horrible, heart-wrenching silence, Billy huffs out something like a laugh. "Thanks, Harrington. Got a date soon if things go right." 

Steve's heart sinks. "That so?" He puts his hands on his hips and studies the tubs of ice cream like he's really thinking about what to get Billy.

He can hear Billy shifting, his denim jacket rustling as he presses closer. Always too close. "Yup. Why, you looking for hair tips?" 

"No." He goes stock still after that, not sure what to do after their little exchange.

"...Are you going to actually pick something or are you going to freeze to death in your little sailor outfit over there?" 

All the blood in his body rushes to his face, he can feel it, he's bright red, so Steve jams his scoop into the banana ice cream partially out of panic and partially out of spite. No one has ever liked Scoops' banana flavor. 

Unless Billy does, and wouldn't that be just goddamn like him. 

Steve holds the cone out and tries very hard not to let his hand shake as Billy takes it. It doesn't work very well. Still, Billy slips a dollar fifty into Steve's hand and smiles at him, a little different than his usual look in a way Steve can't place. "Thanks, princess."

"Steve," he spits, because being irritated with Billy is easier, more familiar, than whatever is clawing at his ribs right now. "My name is Steve, not _princess_."

It throws Billy for a loop, at least, because he stops and looks at Steve with wide eyes for just a second before he's looking up at him through his lashes. "Thank you very much, Steve," he purrs.

He turns and saunters away. Steve watches him go, watches him toss the ice cream in the trash can outside the shop by the fountain like he always does. 

Behind him, Robin sighs. "That was rough, Steve."

"Yeah, I know," he spits, but there's barely any heat behind it. He runs his hand through his hair, trying to ease his nerves. "Fuck."

"Fuck," Robin agrees.

\+ 1  
Steve listens to Robin from the back room of the shop. It was her turn to placate Erica, and his turn to page through the employee manual for any sort of loophole that could stop her reign of terror. 

He puts the papers down. Half of the manual doesn't make sense to him, anyway. Instead, he listens to their bickering outside, the demands for a spoonful of chocolate chip, yes, again, and then to the lull of silence as Erica pretends to consider buying a cone of it. 

Erica makes her next demand -- mint, now -- but Robin doesn't reply, which is. Odd.

Then there's a low mumble, and Robin's saying something back. Erica calls out, "_What_ is that man doing?" 

And then Billy Hargrove is standing in his fucking break room, looking way too cool about it. His red shirt might as well not be buttoned at all, and he's wearing leather today, and he's curled his hair and is wearing that one earring and Steve has been looking for way too long.

"Um, hello? Employees only?" he chokes out. He gestures at his uniform like that will lend him credibility.

Billy looks him up and down and sits in the chair across from him like he owns the damn place. "Robin let me in."

"I'm going to have to have a talk with her about that," Steve groans. He closes his eyes and tunes out Erica's agitated chattering and the sounds of the mall beyond her. 

He really needs to calm down about this, he thinks. It's just Billy. Just Billy Hargrove, sitting across from him in a room alone. Just Billy, who he likes, and who likes him, maybe. 

His face is going red again.

He opens his eyes to Billy's muffled laughter. "You doing okay, princess? Looking a little bothered over there." Then, before Steve can say anything, he corrects himself: "Steve. I mean Steve."

And, well, that's not doing anything to stop him blushing. He still needs to say something, though. He needs to say about a billion somethings, so he settles on a something that's not quite anything. "I never figured out what ice cream you like," he says, not quite to Billy. 

"Shit, is that what's got you all worked up over there?" When Steve glances over, Billy's smiling easily, leaning back in his chair.

"Dunno. Don't feel great about it, for sure," he says, looking away again. "A waste of ice cream, that's for sure, too."

"Well, hey," Billy says, his voice a little bit, impossibly, softer. "Not like I'm leaving Hawkins any time soon. Got plenty of time, pretty boy."

"That's not the point," Steve says. He hangs his head back over the chair, staring at the speckled ceiling panels. 

Billy sighs, and the chair squeaks across the floor as he stands. His boots thud against the tile. He stops beside Steve, leaning on the table. Steve straightens up. His breath hitches as he registers exactly how close Billy is to him. Always closer.

"Well," Billy begins, licks his lips, tries again. "You want me to tell you what I really want?"

Steve snaps. He slaps his hand on the table and in one breath, spits, "Yes! Yes, I want you to tell me what you fucking want, because this is an ice cream shop and I don't get paid three dollars an hour to watch you stand in front of the counter and ding the stupid bell or to get called pretty boy while trying to guess what the hell you want from me!" 

Billy's looking at him wide-eyed again. Distantly, Steve thinks that maybe neither of them are talking about ice cream anymore. 

Then, as Billy leans down and gets closer, close enough to feel his breath on his cheeks, the warmth from his skin, his curls brushing Steve's forehead, he thinks maybe he's actually just about to die.

"What I want from you?" Billy echoes. He tilts his head just a little. "C'mon, Stevie, I'm sure you can guess."

"Maybe," Steve whispers, and then he leans forward and kisses Billy.

Billy's arms are around him instantly, pulling him up to his feet and pulling him closer. Steve scrambles for purchase. The warm leather on his shoulders is soft and good under his palms. He thinks he understands now why Billy always seems to want to be closer, closer. 

A noise escapes him as Billy pulls back, and Steve tugs at Billy's hair, bringing their mouths together again, and Steve's gonna _burn up_.

"You know this is a restaurant right? Like we have health codes and shit?"

When Steve jerks backwards -- still close, still caught in Billy's arms -- Robin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Robin, um-"

She gives him a knowing smile. "Yeah, you're welcome, dingus." 

He drops his head onto Billy's shoulder and feels him shift with the beginnings of a laugh. 

Robin continues like this is normal, like Steve's not still caught in Billy's arms and like he isn't bright red and like they aren't both still on the clock. "Just so you know, Steve, you owe me."

"For what," Steve grumbles into Billy's jacket, but Billy talks over him.

"Hey, give a guy some privacy, huh?" His warm hand presses against Steve's back, fingers splayed. Steve shivers.

"Alright. Still owe me," she tosses over her shoulder. The door finally swings closed behind her.

Billy pulls back from Steve just a little and nudges Steve's face off of his shoulder. Steve looks up, his heart picking up again.

"You know," Billy mumbles, quiet, just for him, "you're pretty when you blush, Steve."

"Good, 'cause I don't think I'll be stopping any time soon," he says, stumbling over his words. He clears his throat, fixes his gaze determinedly over Billy's left shoulder. "So, um," he begins. His breath catches as Billy mouths at his neck. "Out of curiosity."

Billy hums and Steve thinks he might lose it. 

"What _is_ your favorite flavor of ice cream?" He blurts out.

Against his neck, Billy laughs. "No, no way, princess, you have to guess."

Steve huffs and pushes back, meeting Billy's eyes, because irritation is simpler than the mix of happy-love-panic-fear swirling in his gut right now. Even if he can't find any bite to really add to his words. "I'm done guessing." 

Steve fixes him with his most intimidating look, the one that always has Mike and Will and Lucas -- and, if he's lucky, Dustin -- stopping in their tracks. Given his current position, he realizes it's not the most effective, but it's the best he's got.

Mischief curls into Billy's lips until he's grinning, all teeth. "You'd never believe me."

"I'm willing to believe anything. I really, really, really just want to know."

Billy leans in, his lips brushing the shell of Steve's ear. "Vanilla."

"You're shitting me."

"I'm not," Billy says, threading his fingers through Steve's hair. "You can ask Maxine if you don't believe me."

Steve leans back into Billy's hand. "You're the worst," he says, his eyes drifting shut. "And I hate you."

"Somehow, Steve," Billy says, "I doubt that."

**Author's Note:**

> I've spent the last several days reading novel length harringrove fics where Billy and Steve get to work out their emotions at as slow a pace as they like meanwhile i'm over here like "i have 5k words worth of energy"  
but anyway if u write those long ass fics pls know that I appreciate you so much!! or if you contribute to the stranger things fandom at all! I also appreciate you! now I'm going to sleep for ten hours!


End file.
